


Last Kiss

by fallingforfiction



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingforfiction/pseuds/fallingforfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's just the thing, isn't it? You always just expect to have more experiences with a person. But thinking like that is what gets you hurt. (One shot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> REALLY ANGSTY, OKAY.

She wasn’t exactly sure how it happened. 

All she knew was that she wound up laying on the rug in her living room, clad in nothing but one of Cameron’s flannels; it was pretty much a dress on her…just the way she liked it.

She could practically feel his arms wrapping around her; the warmth of his embrace ghosting her in that all too familiar comforting feeling that only he could bring. 

The way he would look at her; absolutely dripping with pride to call her his. 

She recalls the first time he ever told her that he loved her. Granted, it was an accident. The words had slipped from his mouth and he had looked terrified as soon as he finished uttering them. But she simply smiled in return, kissing him and whispering that she loved him more. 

She can see the smile he beamed at her after she said that as clearly as the day it happened; like he was standing in front of her now. That smile so bright, it was almost blinding. 

It kills her to think about it.

_Because if he loved me, why’d he leave me?_

And she knows his name is forever going to be the name ghosting her lips; the one she’s going to want to call every man that reminds her of him.

She looks back at all of the pictures, watching his life in them like she used to watch him sleeping soundly beside her; her head on his chest that was rising and falling steadily as he would dream.

She can feel every kiss they’d shared.

When he saw her in the morning and when she was scared. Times when he would kiss her just to kiss her, because why not? When he would look at her like there was nothing he’d changed about her, even if he could, and then kiss her softy. 

Whenever she would talk too much or over-analyze things, he would interrupt her with his lips. He took her breath away. What she wouldn’t give for those rude interruptions again.

Because she never thought that would happen. 

She never expected that they would have their last kiss.

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? You always just  _expect_  to have more experiences with a person. But thinking like that is what gets you hurt.

And as she lies in a puddle of her tears, blonde hair sticking to the tears vigilantly flowing down her cheeks and shaking so hard because the memories are attacking her so fast and far too viciously, she can think only one thing.  

She’s learned not to expect anything anymore.

And she’s learned it the hard way.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if this killed your feelings, but I had to write this. It was calling me.


End file.
